As the Blood Speaks
by Rebellwithoutacause
Summary: Setting is the last battle between Mordor and the free peoples of Middle Earth. It suicide, and everyone knows it. To die without fear is to die in peace. Tis better than the summery makes it sound.


**_Ok, this is my first Lord of the Rings fanfic, so please, do not flame me! Praise is always welcome, and critizim, if constructive, is warmly recieved. So, love it or hate it, review! _**

We would marched to certain death.

Long before the Fellowship had been formed, I had been told to expect death. That way, if it didn't come, we would treat it as a blessing, and value it all the more. I both regretted and cherished that teaching.

In all the long years I have walked this Middle Earth, I have treasured life, and all that it represents. It is not just moving beings that are alive, but all of the earth, from the wind to the water to the light, it was all alive.

Yet it was poisoned. Poisoned by Sauron and his evil. His evil was drawing all the life from Middle Earth and draining it, never to be truly recovered. The Elves knew it. The earth around them was dying, along with its caretakers.

Before the Fellowship of the Ring, I had begun to despair. Despair that I would never see Middle Earth's true beauty, and that I would not reach the sea. The poison of Sauron had seeped into my veins, and with each beat of my heart, it pushed it farther and farther into my body.

But when the Fellowship was formed, my heart had shot with hope like an arrow. It fluttered like a bird's wings. Yet it was a fragile hope. A tiny flame that flickered and wavered where any small mistake might put it out. Yet the Fellowship had nurtured that flame, kept it safe from harm, and continued to feed its fires till when it reached its climax at the battle of Helms Deep.

Yet then, the poison of Sauron had been forced down our throats again, and now our flame was threatened. It was equally as strong as his poison that longed to quench our fire. Frodo and Sam were almost to Mount Doom, yet they were done for unless we gave up our lives.

I was ready for it. I had mentally prepared myself at Helm's Deep. Yet in that, I had not despaired. I had before I had known Aragorn was alive. But when he was returned to us, my heart shot with hope again. And when I saw my kin from Lorien march to meet us, the fire of hope had burned my blood and given me strength.

It was the same now. I was not afraid for my own life. Not in the true sense of fear. I'd lived a long life, seen much, both good and bad, and I was not frightened by death. So many of my comrades had met the same fate. I would be proud to die for this cause, like so many of my kin before me. For two little hobbits, I would sacrifice myself, if only to give the next generation a tiny hope. Maybe, just maybe, if our plans worked, and Sauron was drawn away from Frodo and Sam, we would prevail.

I roamed Minas Tirith's streets, taking in the last of what I would see of life. Some would say I was brooding, callous and cold for not being with my friends. Yet I needed to be alone, to come to grips with my fate before I could deal with my comrades.

My blond hair shimmered in the pale sun light, and the eyes of many were turned my way. Elves had not been seen by the Gondorian people for a long time. I suppose I was a bit of a mystery to them. A being immortal from age or sickness, yet now I was just as mortal as any of them in the wake of Sauron's poison.

"Arod," I murmured, my feet having taken me to the stables were my white horse stood.

The animal turned his head and pressed his velvet muzzle into my palm, seeking attention. His deep eyes seemed to reassure me. It wasn't blind devotion that he followed his rider's orders. It was a sense of duty and purpose that drove him to serve me, and all the challenges that I had put him through so far. From roaming the paths of the dead, to crossing through Fangorn, I had always felt a purpose in my steed.

Arod pressed his muzzle against my cheek and blew a puff of air onto my face. "Aye, one in the same," I murmured to him in my own tongue.

I patted him once more, somehow, even more acutely aware of my own physical body, now that it was in serious jeopardy. The sense of touch as I ran my fingertips through Arod's mane. My hearing as I listened to his breathing and the beating of my own heart. I gazed out the window of the stable, and saw with my Elven eyes the details of the distance mountains.

I left the stable to once more roam the streets of the White City. I prowled like a cat through the levels before I finally retreated to the quarters we'd been given. I by passed my bed and went to my balcony, and I perched myself onto the white stone, my back pressed against the wall. I folded one knee up to my chest, the other hanging off the edge of the balcony. I laced my arms around my raised knee and leaned against the building frame content to watch the sun fall in the sky behind the ominous mountains.

I don't know how long I remained perched in that place, certainly a long time as I contemplated my life. The sun was just beginning to paint the sky in a blaze of color when my keen Elven ears picked up the sounds of footsteps.

The very scent told me who it was approaching. Aragorn. I could also tell who it was by the sound of his stride. Gimli never walked so softly, nor could ever take such long steps.

"Estel," I breathed to the air, not turning to look at him just yet.

"Legolas," he returned, choosing to stand rather than sit upon the balcony edge. "Gimli had wondered where you'd gone."

I smiled slightly. "I roamed the city, remembering more the forest than a prison made of stone."

"Ah, but all of Middle Earth is a prison to an Elf, is it not?" Aragorn asked me shrewdly.

"We long for the sea, yes, but we find beauty in the nature of life itself," I told him.

"Why had you not yet left with all that remains of your kin, Legolas?" Aragorn asked me quietly.

So curious, I thought with the ghost of a smile in my eyes. It was a long moment before I answered him. "I had long contemplated taking a ship into the West before the Fellowship, but I delayed. When my father sent me to Rivendelle with the news of Gollum's escape, amongst other things, I suddenly had a reason why I truly should stay."

"If we survive this battle, what will you do, Legolas, will you leave with the rest of your kin, or will you remain behind with Arwen, the only other Elf that would be left in Middle Earth, should we succeed?"

I sighed. "I know we must speak of this, but it saddens me to do so," I said softly. "Arwen has a reason to stay here, she stays for you, Aragorn, do not make me say aloud what you and I both know."

"That you have nothing to stay here for, Legolas?" Aragorn asked me quietly.

I shook my head. "You're friendship has meant more to me than anything in this world, but you've no idea the longing, the yearning in me, even now, for the sea. I cannot explain it, Aragorn, no more than any other Elf could who left behind what they knew and loved for the Undying Lands."

"Your race is one unlike the rest of Middle Earth Legolas, immortal you may be from age and sickness, yet you suffer from longing for the sea, and what would never pain a man, deeply cuts you, it seems you have paid a high price for immortality," he said gently.

"Aye, too high," I whispered. "Alas, my immortality will fail me in tomorrow's battle."

"You do not know that for sure, Legolas, do you give up on hope, now, when we are so close to achieving victory?" Aragorn asked me softly.

"Oh Aragorn," I said shaking my head with a small, yet sad laugh. "Even if I did survive, the pain of leaving behind all that I have come to love in Middle Earth would almost be enough to break me, even if I live, I will suffer."

"But besides even that, I know I will not live past tomorrow," I said quietly.

"Do you know that?" Aragorn asked me. "Do you know for certain you will die?"

I looked at him, his steel eyes boring into mine. Mine gave up nothing, I could see him fruitlessly trying to search me for my heart, not the answers I gave him. But you couldn't see behind an Elf's eyes, not if he didn't want you to.

"You're eyes will not penetrate me, Estel, and I am glad for it, for I would not have you poisoned with my despair," I said with a shake of my head.

"You will ride with us in battle tomorrow, eh?" Aragorn asked me.

"Of course," I said, not quite understanding his question.

"Then have hope, its what this battle is for, if Frodo makes it to Mount Doom, you need not fear death," he said before he left me alone again with my thoughts.

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To a human, an Elf's nights would always be disturbed, for we did not sleep. But tonight, I could not even lower myself into the trance that I experienced when I rested my body. I was restless, pacing up and down my room, my eyes darting left and right at every shadow.

When the dawn came, the city became alive. The pitiful number of soldiers that remained were gathering together to march towards Mordor's gates. I came to breakfast with my friends, but I could not eat. My stomach churned terribly, and so I took up pacing behind the small table where Gimli and Aragorn sat.

"For goodness sake, Legolas, sit down, you're going to loose all your energy before we even set out!" Gimli muttered, but it was with good humor.

I turned to the dwarf, summoning my reply. "Do not forget, Dwarf Master, you ride with me, if I chose to, I could make it extremely difficult, so let me pace, and I'll give you a smooth ride."

Before the Fellowship, I would never have traded such playful words with hardly anyone, except for maybe Estel, and certainly not with a dwarf. I'd kept a wall of ice around my heart, mostly to keep out the fear of the dying world around me. But when the Fellowship was born, that wall melted.

Gimli did not reply to my mocking threat. Grumbling into his beard, I saw Aragorn shake his head at him first, then at me. The corners of my mouth lifted in a smile, and Estel nodded his head to me briefly before he moved his gaze elsewhere.

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Even on the move, my nervousness did not fade. I was glad I had not eaten, for I was as we moved closer to the Black Gates, the noxious smell made me want to retch. Most of the men didn't seem as affected, and I remembered they did not have an Elf's senses. The reeking odor of death stung the roof of my mouth, and I suppressed the bile that rose up to sting the back of my throat.

Arod moved tensely beneath me, and I soothed him with a soft word from my native tongue. He quieted at my voice, and I was chiefly aware of how much I longed for the same sort of comfort now.

The harshness of the landscape around me made my heart heavy. The dry dust was kicked up by the horse hooves and stung my eyes, though I said nothing. The barren earth offered no shelter from the wind, and so my blond hair was blown sharply into my companion's eyes.

"Have you ever thought about getting that cut," Gimli muttered behind me as my long tresses whipped into his face.

A ghost of a smile toyed with my lips. "Little late for that now," I said gently before I turned to Aragorn.

"It would seem we've not gone unnoticed," Estel growled. Right outside the Black Gates, the figure that I knew was the Mouth of Sauron stood. I did not like to think what that creature actually looked like, but I supposed I would be getting a closer look.

The Fellowship, Theoden, and Eomer rode up to meet with the monstrous creature, who's teeth alone made me want to cringe, never mind his rasping growl of a voice. Despicable hate and loathing rose up in me as I stared at the creature.

"Do you challenge the might of Mordor?" the creature asked, his hideous teeth showing with every word.

Even from my distance, I could smell the foul stench that emitted from the creature's lungs as it breathed. I resisted the urge to gag as Aragorn spoke.

"Tell your master that he is to depart these lands, never to return!" Aragorn stated, his tone splintering with ice.

The creature laughed, the reeking stench of death swirling in the air. "I see you are Isildur's heir," he said. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee."

He held up a hand and showed the fine made chain mail that had been worn by Frodo. I retained my cry of outrage, but the hobbits who rode with us were not as successful.

"No!" Merry cried, unbelieving of what he was seeing.

"Silence!" Gandalf spat.

"Frodo…" Pippen whispered, trying to control the tears that threatened to grip him.

"One would never expect so much endurance from one so small," The creature continued. He threw the mail at Gandalf who caught it and handed it to Pippen, who clutched it closely. "You sent him to a most foul death, Gandalf, indeed, you did."

"Enough!" Aragorn snarled. "Do the armies of Mordor surrender?"

"Fool," the Mouth of Sauron lisped. "Do you believe you can command us, Ranger? My master bows to no one! It takes more to be a king than a broken Elvish blade!"

Aragorn did not reply. He moved his horse forward slowly, and before the creature had time to react, he whipped out his sword and swung it sharply. In a matter of second's the Mouth of Sauron was decapitated, the head rolling off the shoulders and falling to the dust.

"I suppose that would conclude negotiations," Gimli muttered.

When the gates began to open wider, Aragorn called for retreat. We fell back to our place with the men, as the Black Gate swung open to reveal our doom.

Ten thousand orcs marched towards us. We were out numbered ten to one. I swallowed hard, feeling my stomach churn again.

Gimli and I dismounted Arod. Making sure I had all my weapons off of his saddle, I petted his muzzle gently. "Farewell, my friend," I said gently before I gave him a light smack on his hind quarters to get him moving away from us. I wouldn't need him any more. My legs would carry me to my death, though I would have been proud to ride into battle on one of Rohan's steeds.

I watched as Gandalf murmured a few soft words to Shadowfax before he too sent the horse away. It was only because Gandalf ordered him to go that he did. The loyalty between the Meras and his rider was much stronger than anything between a normal horse and rider.

All the rest who were mounted on horses now dismounted. Many of their mounts fled without needing encouragement from their riders. They knew death when they saw it. They fled the orcs and their stench. A smell that spelled out death.

"Who'd ever thought I'd die fighting side by side with an Elf," Gimli said quietly to himself.

I looked down at the dwarf. "What about side by side with a friend?" I said, a smile creeping over my face.

He nodded, his own smirk entering his eyes. "Aye, I can do that," he said with a nod.

The armies of Mordor marched towards us, their mighty numbers quaking the hearts of everyone around me. Yet this is how I always wanted it to be. To die in battle, fighting and saving my friends, and the world I truly loved.

Aragorn turned towards me, and his steel eyes locked onto mine. The army of Mordor was assembled, surrounding us completely. His gaze bored into my own, and in his eyes, I saw no fear. "For Frodo," he whispered. Then he turned and with his blade raised, charged towards what could only be death.

The hobbits took up the call. "For Frodo!" the shouted, and they sprang after Aragorn.

I uttered no words, but with a yowl, I sprang after them, not bothering to draw my bow. Now the rest of the army plunged after us, shrieking whatever battle cry would bring them hope.

My twin daggers gleamed in the sunlight, clean for just one moment before I'd swept them up against the chest wall of an Orc. They spilt him open like a fish and he fell back dead. Yet it seemed a hundred more surrounded me.

Dancing, swerving, dodging, and cutting, I plowed my way through the Orcs. I held my daggers in the tips of my fingers, keeping my wrists and hand only tight enough to keep from loosing them from my grip. I spun myself in a wide circle holding my blades out. I gutted at least four Orcs in this maneuver before I whirled back around and plunged my blades into another enemy.

On and on and on I went, stabbing dodging, scarcely breathing. My feet danced upon the blood soaked ground as I shifted my weight back and forth as I dodged to keep from slipping on the slick earth.

It was hopeless. We were so badly out numbered, it was impossible to gauge how long we would even survive. This was suicide, and yet, all that mattered was keeping myself alive. Every time my heart would beat, I'd know I was still alive. I watched as men were cut down all around me, their spines sliced open, their hearts ripped from their chests, limbs severed off by the cruel weapons of the Orcs.

It was a blood bath massacre. So much worse than Helms Deep. My hands were bathed in blood, my daggers soaked in it. It made my blades slip slide in my hands. Yet as it dried underneath my palms, it formed a sticky glue and kept my hands firmly placed upon my knives. Never once did I fear of loosing my blades by accident. Yet I feared of being knifed from behind. Feared it so desperately, I would often turn one way, slaughter who ever was in front of me, and whirl around to protect my back.

I realized that it wasn't just Orcs that we were fighting. Trolls and Nazguel had been released into the fray as well. The Fell Beast screamed, and it felt as if my skull was bursting.

They screeched again, and I screamed in pain. I fell onto my knees, and covered my sharp tipped ears with my hands, dropping my knives. I gasped for breath, trying to recover, but all too soon, that shriek started again, and another screech tore itself from my throat.

My entire body shook. My head pounded, and my ears felt like my own daggers were being driven into my skull. I tried to block the noise out, but it was impossible. I couldn't do it. I was helpless against it. Blood leaked from between my fingers, streaming from my sensitive ears. The shriek echoed around in my head, but when I felt a hand slap onto my shoulder, I was able to look up.

"Get up, Legolas, its only noise, such as thunder!" Estel shouted. His face was streaked with blood, and his blade was soaked with it, but he was still standing tall.

Aragorn's voice, and his hand broke through my terror and my pain. It was like I'd been pulled out from underneath a pounding water fall and could breathe again. I got up, snatching my knives as I did so.

However, it was just as I'd gained my feet that a monstrous troll advanced on both Aragorn and myself. I quickly slipped my knives into their case, and fast as lightening, I'd fitted my bow with an arrow.

I shot, but it was deflected off its armor. I tried to dodge when it swung its steel club at us, but I wasn't fast enough. It caught me in the belly and chest, smashing my ribs and throwing me at least ten feet. I hit the ground with a thud, all the wind socked out of my chest.

I tried to get up, but I couldn't. I was helpless. A knifing pain was digging in between my ribs, choking me. A salty taste welled up into my mouth. Scarlet blood began to run down my chin as I spat out the liquid.

Coughing and gasping, I again tried to rise. But I couldn't, I still could barely breathe. I fell again onto my back, but this time, an Orc leered over me.

"I'll have the pleasure of killing the only Elf at the battle," it lisped at me.

He raised his knife and, before I could do anything to defend against him, stabbed me across the stomach. I shrieked in pain as it went through my armor and hit my gut. Warm, wet blood began to pour from my wound soaking my tunic and everything it touched.

"You die hard, Elf," the Orc hissed. He raised his knife again for another strike, but this time, a white blade flashed above me, and he lost his head.

"Estel," I whispered, my voice thick with pain.

"No, Legolas…" Aragorn moaned. He dropped to his knees beside me, his blade falling from his hand.

"Peace, brother, find Gimli," I pleaded. I could feel my strength slipping out of my grasp. "Find him!" I moaned.

Aragorn called three times for him. On the fourth, the dwarf was able to get to us. We were all heedless to the battle that raged around us, I especially.

"No!" Gimli wailed. "This is not happening… no!" He shook his head repeatedly, as if trying to shake from his eyes the image of my body bleeding profusely on the ground.

"Do not deny what is clear in front of you," I choked. My hand spasmodically groped at the air until I found Gimli's hand. He clenched mine in his own, tears welling in his eyes.

"I was proud to be you're friend, Gimli," I whispered. "Now if ever more, do we need dwarves like you, those who put aside what they've been taught for the sake of what must be done."

"Legolas, don't talk," Aragorn whispered his tone speaking his horror as he stripped off my armor as best he could so he could see how much damage had been done to me.

The orc club had smashed clean into my chest, breaking three of my ribs, and piercing me in several places on my chest. But the Orc's dagger was what would finish me off much faster. If I had not been stabbed, I'd of died anyways. With three broken ribs, I couldn't move, and I was as helpless as a horse with a broken leg.

The wound in my stomach was still gushing blood. Aragorn pressed his hand against it, trying to stem its flow, but the red liquid was sliding out from between his fingertips. My life was escaping him, despite how he tried to catch it in his hands.

"Estel," I whispered, using the last of my strength to speak. "I took the club for you," I tried to speak again, but I ended up gasping. Blood was filling my lungs and throat. Aragorn rolled me to my side as he felt my body heave. Blood, bile, and lymph gushed from my mouth, but it cleared out my throat.

"I regret not that I paid the debt I've owed you, commend me to Arwen. Say how I loved you, and speak me fair in death, and let whom you tell be the judge if Legolas Greenleaf was a fool." I spoke in a tight voice, panting between words, as I could feel my lungs already filling up with blood again.

"Legolas, don't do this!" Aragorn whimpered. Gimli had released my hand to fight off the Orcs who were trying to take advantage of the fallen man.

"Alas, that we do not choose when, where or how we die!" I said in my own tongue. Aragorn tried to fight off tears but his attempt was unsuccessful. They flowed from his eyes, dripping onto my face, and washing off the blood.

"Please, Legolas, don't go," Aragorn pleaded. "Please, don't."

In that moment, when I saw the despair and the fear in his eyes, my heart broke in two. Shredded and tore itself into bits for him. Sweet Valar, I would do anything to save him from this pain.

"Might I say one thing to comfort you?" I asked. My strength was fleeing me rapidly now. With every beat of my heart, more blood was pushed out of my body, and the weaker I grew.

Aragorn nodded, tears streaking his eyes still.

I sucked in a blood soaked breath before continuing. "I died as I always wanted to," I choked. "Protecting those I love."

"Legolas no!" Aragorn wailed.

I closed my eyes, but I could still feel as Aragorn picked me up from the ground and half cradled me in his arms against his broad chest. Soon I could no longer take the warmth from his body, and my own faded rapidly. The blood that poured out of me and onto the grass now stained Aragorn.

I held on for a moment longer. Long enough for my hand to seize Aragorn's and clasp it tightly. Then the blackness came for me. I tried to open my eyes, and found I had no strength. I tried to breathe, and found only blood in my lungs. My heart tried to beat, and I had no blood in my veins to pulse.

I surrendered, ready for the pain to be over. Everything that I had wanted done or said had been, and I was not frightened now. I was at peace. My soul was calm, and did not flutter in vain, searching for some way out of my fate. My spirit settled into a warm tide that swirled around me like water. If I could have, I would have smiled. I yielded myself up to death, and I realized something.

My last words to Aragorn were true. And that was why I wasn't afraid.


End file.
